8.11 – The Lights In Radon Canyon

This just in. We’re receiving word from the City Council that there was absolutely not a Pink Floyd Multimedia Laser Spectacular this weekend at Radon Canyon. That there was never a Pink Floyd Multimedia Laser Spectacular ever near Night Vale. “Pink Floyd is not even a thing,” said the Council, in a very stern but quiet statement just received by me, here, via phone.

The Council— and this is strange— the entire Council, not just a representative of the Council, the entire Council issued this statement, all speaking in unison, just now, over the phone: that Night Vale citizens are prohibited from discussing any lights or sounds coming from Radon Canyon this past weekend, and that they should just stop remembering Pink Floyd shows altogether. The Council reiterated that there is no way that they are huge Floyd fans, privately using public funds on a laser-powered séance to talk hard-rocking classic jams with the ghost of original front man Syd Barrett, and that Syd wouldn’t even say anything juicy anyway, because he is such a gentleman, and an artist. This did not happen at all.

So, listeners, we urge you to look away from Radon Canyon. Avert your eyes, ears, and memories from that which is no longer allowed you. Comfort and distract yourselves with dense food and television programming.

As the old adage goes, “A life of pain is the pain of life. And you can never escape it, only hope it hides unknown in a drawer like a poisonous spider and never comes out again, even though it probably will in unexpected and horrific fashion, scaring you from being able to comfortably conduct even the most mundane, quotidian tasks.” Or, at least, that’s how my grandparents always phrased it.

And now, the weather.

[“This Too Shall Pass” by Danny Schmidt.]

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12.2 – The Candidate

First, the news. Old Town Night Vale residents are complaining about extremely noisy sunsets. Several agitated citizens are pushing for the City Council to do something about the solar shrieking every evening for the past few weeks. One homeowner described the sound as ‘the parched cries of sad buzzards or perhaps even the unholy voice of Old Scratch himself’.

The City Council, speaking in unison at a televised press conference, said that the noise is just the windmill farms that litter the unfortunate wastelands of Desert Bluffs, and that the noises do not fall under Night Vale jurisdiction. Walton Kincaid, president of the community group Soundproof Old Town, said that the windmills can’t possibly be the source of the noise, as they are non-existent and also don’t work, because of Desert Bluffs’ staggering incompetence. The City Council called a second press conference, wherein they all wordlessly stared down Kincaid for fourteen uninterrupted minutes. Their dark eyes tore holes straight through the community spokesman, metaphorically speaking, until his soul was compacted into what looked like a partially chewed black-eyed pea. Literally.

To date, only Old Town residents have reported hearing these inconceivable noises every evening as the sun crosses the indifferent horizon. And the noises seem to be taking their toll. There have been two heart attacks, twelve cases of significant muscular atrophy, and at least two dozen claims of folks growing third eyes, including Kincaid himself, who had an arachnid-like eight eyes when he spoke before City Council yesterday morning. No other neighborhood can hear the sounds.

I spoke to Simone Rigadeau in the Earth Sciences building at Night Vale Community College about the scientifically fascinating story, and she called it a simple case of celestial ‘just desserts’. Full disclosure, listeners: Rigadeau does not work in Earth Sciences. She is a transient living in the recycling closet of the Earth Sciences building, and she collects cans as pets. There is another hearing scheduled at 4 a.m. tomorrow, on the highest ledge overlooking Skeleton Gorge, which can only be accessed by government helicopters. All previous endeavors to scale the cliffside by rock-climbing enthusiasts have failed in extravagantly gory fashion. The Council issued a statement wishing Kincaid luck in attending this mandatory meeting.

19A.2 – The Sandstorm

Listeners, the City Council announced moments ago that a sandstorm will be arriving Night Vale in just a few minutes. They apologize that they did not announce this sooner, but they just kind of let their morning slip away from them. ‘You know how it is,’ they said in unison. ‘You think “Oh, we should announce this dangerous sandstorm, that’s priority one.” But then you have to get some coffee, and you run into your coworker friends, and then you check your email, and maybe a glance at Facebook, and you just lose track of time. You know,’ they concluded.

The sandstorm is projected to be the largest in decades, and meteorologists warned that high winds and debris from the desert could cause millions in damage. They also said that if you’re not already inside with windows closed, doors locked, and eyes shut tight, then your future will probably be very different. Meteorologists then warned that raccoons are actually pretty dangerous animals despite how adorable they seem, and never, EVER feed baby raccoons, because the mother raccoon will definitely attack you. ‘Have you ever had rabies shots?’ the meteorologists asked. ‘Oh, it is the WORST,’ they continued as the press corps got restless and hoped that the meteorologists would just shut up soon. ‘God, meteorologists just don’t know when to stop,’ the entire press corps moaned.

So, take cover, Night Vale. Hide in your homes and offices, and pretend that mere walls are enough to protect you from nature’s might and life’s brevity and meaninglessness. Keep your radios tuned in here – we’ll keep you up to date.